Bethany was peeking through a worn wooden screen, the wood soft with age and wormholes. She leaned her weight against it without thinking.
Crack!
The whole panel gave way, and she yelped as she tumbled forward in a most undignified manner, landing in the dirt with a puff of dust. Her elbow smarted where it scraped against the ground.
Three heads turned immediately.
Zhao Lingxi, pale and composed, looked at her without expression. Beside her, the taller servant Liu Ruyan blinked in surprise, while the smaller servant girl, Chen Mei, covered her mouth, eyes wide.
"…What are you doing?" Liu Ruyan asked, half worried, half suspicious.
Bethany coughed, brushing dust off her sleeves. "I was, uh… testing the sturdiness of the screen. For safety."
Chen Mei let out a muffled snicker before quickly turning her head away.
Zhao Lingxi tilted her head ever so slightly, her voice calm. "It doesn't seem sturdy at all."
Bethany's lips twitched. "…No, not at all." She coughed again, then waved toward the letter Zhao Lingxi still held. "Young Miss, are you going to reply?"
"What's there to reply?" Zhao Lingxi said evenly.
Bethany blinked. "Well, you could say something back?"
Her mistress lowered her lashes, voice faint. "I have nothing to say to them."
The conversation ended just like that. Zhao Lingxi turned away, and the servants followed. Bethany lingered for a second, scratching her cheek awkwardly. Cold as ice, huh?
Later, Bethany wandered through the shabby courtyard.
It was pitiful.
The walls were cracked, moss climbing over the stones. The roof tiles sagged with dampness, some broken, leaving gaps where cold wind whistled in. The ground was hard-packed dirt, uneven and scattered with weeds.
When she entered the so-called kitchen, she nearly laughed. It was nothing more than a dark corner with a brick stove and a few battered pots. The shelves were empty save for a little basket of wilted greens, a jar of rice with barely a handful left at the bottom, and a dried radish shriveled like an old man's fist.
Bethany sighed. In her space, she still had stacks of apocalypse supplies: canned beans, instant noodles, even whole packs of jerky. But if she suddenly pulled them out here, these people would surely ask questions she had no intention of answering.
So she kept her secret.
Instead, she rolled up her sleeves and helped Liu Ruyan and Chen Mei sort through the pitiful ingredients. They cut the greens, scraped the rice into a pot, and sliced the dried radish into thin strips.
The smell that rose from the stove was thin and watery, hardly enough to fill a grown person's belly. But Bethany stirred the pot steadily, watching the steam rise.
When the food was ready, Bethany volunteered to serve. She balanced the tray carefully and carried it into Zhao Lingxi's room.
Inside, the heroine sat at a wooden table by the window. She had brushed out her long black hair, and it spilled like silk down her back. A piece of worn paper lay before her, and she was writing with a brush, though her movements seemed absentminded, her gaze distant.
Bethany's eyes lingered for half a second. Even shabby clothes can't hide her aura. She really does look like the heroine of a novel…
Lost in thought, Bethany caught her toe on a loose board. She stumbled forward with a sharp gasp.
In that instant, Zhao Lingxi moved.
Her chair scraped back, and before Bethany could hit the ground, a pair of slim but surprisingly strong arms caught her around the waist.
Bethany's eyes widened as she found herself inches away from Zhao Lingxi's cold, unreadable face.
"Be careful," Zhao Lingxi said softly.
Bethany nodded quickly, her cheeks heating. Zhao Lingxi's hands were steady and warm against her waist. For a fleeting moment, their gazes locked—dark eyes meeting hers, unreadable, probing.
Then Zhao Lingxi released her and sat back down, as calm as if nothing had happened.
Bethany's heart gave an odd skip. She coughed, set the tray carefully on the table, and stepped back. "Dinner is served, Young Miss."
Zhao Lingxi merely inclined her head, already turning back to her writing.
Bethany bowed awkwardly and escaped, her mind in turmoil. What was that? She caught me so fast… and those eyes… ugh, no, stop thinking nonsense.
Back in the kitchen, Bethany and the servants ate what scraps were left over. The rice was thin porridge, the radish slices chewy, the greens almost tasteless. It filled the belly but did nothing for the soul.
Liu Ruyan sighed as she set her bowl down. "Once we return to the capital, we can finally eat until we're full again."
Chen Mei nodded eagerly. "Her ladyship must be excited as well. She can finally see her younger brother."
Bethany kept her expression calm, spooning another mouthful of thin porridge. Excited? That girl doesn't look excited at all. But who could blame her? Ten years locked away here like a criminal. Even if she returns, it won't be to a warm welcome.
She set her bowl aside and sat back. Her mind drifted.
In the original story, this was still the beginning. At this point, Lan Yue—the role she had fallen into—hadn't yet betrayed Zhao Lingxi. That meant her chances of survival were still good, at least for now.
She glanced down at her chest, where the loose robe gaped slightly. Curiosity sparked.
Bethany pressed her palms against her new body.
Soft. Full. Much larger than the flat, boyish figure she had carried through the apocalypse.
Her lips curved into a mischievous smile. She gave a small squeeze.
Liu Ruyan choked on her porridge, coughing violently. Chen Mei's eyes nearly popped out of her head.
"L-Lan Yue?!"
"Have you lost your mind?!"
Bethany grinned unabashedly, eyes sparkling. "Hehe… I could get used to this. Who knew this body had such benefits?"
The two girls stared at her in horror.
Bethany leaned back, stretching lazily. In her heart, something shifted. She was no longer Bethany, the apocalypse leader betrayed by her own people. That name was tied to blood, hunger, and endless fighting.
Here, in this broken little courtyard, she had a new identity.
From now on, she was Lan Yue.
And this time, she would live her life however she pleased.